


Dancing Through the Fire

by aimmyarrowshigh, colazitron



Category: Stereo Kicks (Band), Union J (Band), X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Mutually Unrequited, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IT'S X-FACTOR SEASON AND THERE'S A BOY BAND PUT TOGETHER BY THE JUDGES. Must mean it's time for some "they haven't even met?!" polyamory!  Welcome to being in a boy band, Tom and Barclay.  Hold onto your butts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Through the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This was 90% written so V could laugh at herself, [5% written because Tom and Barclay are both really pretty](http://aimmyarrowshigh.co.vu/post/99768163705), and 5% written because posting butts before an elimination show is good luck (cue more V laughing at herself and Hannah laughing at V).

Being on the X Factor is a dream come true, and getting to come back with Beales--

Well. Tom could have dreamt worse. Last year, they'd made all sorts of plans to see each other again even if they were sent home, but Louis Walsh and life both intervened. Tom had been afraid that it would be awkward at bootcamp when he saw Barclay Beales across the greenroom... but it wasn't. Beales just bounded over to him and swept him up in a crushing hug with those _arms_ and muttered, _sorry, mate, it's been too long_. And then it was like they'd been together all along.

Now, of course, sharing one bedroom, they are. Together all the time. But with six other lads, most of whom are Actual Infants. And that part's torture, because it means they're _never actually together_.

So when Parisa and Betsy suggested going out to a club to burn off their nervous energy before the big weekend, both Tom and Barclay immediately said yes. Their room while they got ready was a mess of underage whining, but really, Charlie and Reece and the rest should just have been born in the goddamn twentieth century if they wanted to go clubbing.

"You'll get your turn, little ones," Beales said, pulling on his shoes. "Now off to brush your teeth and to bed with you. You've a curfew."

Tom valiantly swallowed the giggle that bubbled up from his chest and turned to hide his grin. Judging from Beales' wink at him he'd not done so well on the second one. Oh well. There were worse things than having a fit boy know you think he's funny. In Tom's experience, having them think you think they're funny usually led to very fun times had by all.

"Are you ready yet? George is already texting me not to be late," Parisa said, poking her head into their room, eliciting all sorts of hooting and pulling up of blankets from the underage fraction of the room.

"Yes, yes, we're done," Tom said, grabbing Beales' wrist in one hand, the door in the other and ushered them all back out of the room, closing the door on the pubescent noise.

"George?" Beales asked, while they descended the stairs. Parisa looked up from the text she was composing and smiled.

"Oh, yes. Did I not mention? George and Josh are coming with."

Everyone in the house knows all about how George used to be in OTY, and he had that thing with Parisa for a while, and then he left her for Josh. It's probably odd, from the outside, that they're still such good friends, but it's not like Parisa isn't with Betsy. They probably have an understanding by now.

 

Still, Beales and Tom exchange a quick look. Beales lifts one shoulder a bit and Tom lifts an eyebrow back. It's not really any of their business anyway and if they're all comfortable clubbing together then the more the merrier.

"Alright then. Only the first week on here and we're already meeting actual celebrities. We're moving up in the world," Beales jokes, throwing one arm around Tom and one around Parisa. She rolls her eyes at him, but good-naturedly and then holds the door of the taxi open for them.

"In you go then. We're late."

It's nice not having to wait in the queue outside the club, even if they do still have to pay for their own drinks and wait up at the bar to be served. Maybe someday. But getting drunk isn't the point of tonight anyhow--just getting to be out of that house, and out of that room, out from under the watchful eyes of minders, is the real goal.

Tom wonders if having stayed in a hotel would have made that easier, but generally he likes staying in the house better. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he can just make himself a sarnie and doesn't need to wait for the kitchen to open up or something like that.

Just as he's handing over his pound notes (funny how the exact same drink is more expensive if they serve it in a club with more well known faces in), there's a commotion next to him. When he turns, Parisa's got her arms full of fluffy hair and bird-bone shoulders.

"His hair really is that big in real life," Beales murmurs in Tom's ear, and Tom sticks his tongue out a little on a silent laugh of agreement.

His lips are really that big in real life as well, Tom notes in the flashing lights when George pulls back to beam at Parisa and then turns to them.

"Hi, sorry. I'm George."

Tom and Barclay both reach out to shake hands, but instead George bounces over to them and gives big, warm hugs.

Even against Tom he feels a little tiny and when he looks over to see Barclay wrap his arms around him, his tongue comes out to wet his lips subconsciously. My.

Tom looks back to Parisa and Betsy, who are both hugging Josh Cuthbert at the same time. He isn't as small as George, but he's almost as pretty. He might actually be prettier, but he looks less... touchable, than George does. 

Given what George does after he bounces back to Josh, though, evidently he is, indeed, able to be touched.

George pays the two girls no heed and wraps both his arms around Josh's neck, pulling them so close together, their dark jeans and shirts seemingly blend together for a moment. Somehow when he releases Josh and winds an arm around his waist to lean against him, Parisa and Betsy are standing next to them, with their arms around each other instead of Josh.

"This is Josh," George grins over at them.

Josh does actually just shake hands, and his dwarf Tom's.

"Hi. Good to meet you," he says. Tom flicks his eyes over to Barclay to see how he's approaching the far more formal greeting.

"Don't be such a robot, Josh," Parisa says, before either of them can say anything. Tom holds his breath at the comment. But Josh just drops his head to the side and lets one arm hang in a right angle in an imitation of the dance move.

"Oh, god." Betsy covers her face in her hands and a few locks of Parisa's long ombre hair. "I forgot how embarrassing they are, Pez."

"They're boys, love. Of course they are," Parisa says, grin on her face, and then takes a huge gulp from her drink.

"Dance?" she asks her girlfriend.

Parisa twirled Betsy under her arm, and they head off to the dance floor to smudge matching red lipstick all over everything they can reach in public.

Tom watches them go and wishes a bit Beales and he hadn't lost touch. Maybe that'd be them then. Only with less lipstick.

Beales slides closer, pushing Tom to close the gap between them and half of Union J that Parisa and Betsy have left open.

"Hi," Tom says again to George and Josh.

"Hi!" chirps George, endless grin and dimples and big anime eyes.

Tom hadn't really planned this conversation further and falters a bit. Luckily Josh picks up the conversational slack.

"How are you liking it so far? Is it terrible and stressful yet?"

"No, mate, it's just exciting. Everything after being sent home and brought back is a treat," Beales says.

Josh nods, even though George is nuzzling into his neck like a needy puppy.

"There's eight of you, right?" he asks, reaching one hand up to card through George's hair. Tom is a bit entranced by how his thumb runs up and down the pulse by George's ear.

"Yeah," Beales says. George's shoulders go a bit lax. Tom is a bit transfixed.

"Are you all in one room though? You're in a house again this year, right?" Josh asks.

"Yes," say Tom and Barclay at once, and both George and Josh must immediately catch their tone because they start to laugh.

"We love the lads," Tom says quickly.

"And we really are just grateful to have a change," Beales adds. "But it's eight lads in one room and two of them are still figuring out how morning woodies work."

Josh chokes on his drink at that. "Oh, god."

Tom feels himself flush a bit at the blatant honesty as well, but George giggles and nuzzles back into Josh.

"Josh had to figure out how a few of his woodies worked as well. It's X-Factor tradition," he says.

Josh pinches George's side lightly, his fingertips slipping beneath George's well-tailored shirt. They both dress like they're famous, Tom thinks. It's impressive.

He wonders if it just comes naturally after a time or if it's a conscious choice. Maybe they've got a section in their closets for their famous-looking clothes. Well, judging by how Josh's hand doesn't even attempt to slip back out from underneath George's shirt and what Tom knows of George and Parisa's history, he and Josh probably share the closet.

"How so?" Tom asks, not because he can't work out their meaning but because he thinks he'd like to hear this story.

"Well," George says, tilting his head the other way, "There's like... when a boy band gets put together..." He pauses. "I don't know what I'm allowed to say and what I'm not. But there's like--it's usually for two things. Well, three, I guess, because we can all sing alright, I think."

"We get put into bands because we're hot and have chemistry," Josh says. "That leads to things."

"Things?" Tom asks again, although he's relatively certain theyÄre not buying that he doesn't get it anymore. Still, he sips at his drink and leans back against Barclay a bit. He's solid and gives off a pleasant heat. It'd probably be even more pleasant if he touched Tom like Josh does George.

He used to. Last year, he did. But last year was a long time ago. They weren't even really on the X Factor then.

Apparently being on the X Factor isn't necessarily detrimental to... that though. Not looking at George and Josh now and the way Josh's lips have curled up into a smirk that is truly impressively dirty. Who knew a face that pretty could look that filthy?

"Oh, yeah. All sorts of things," he says. "Rather delightful things."

"Wait," Beales says slowly from just behind Tom. "You said, 'when boy bands get put together.' Does that mean -- ?"

"Oh, yeah," say George and Josh.

"Which two?" asks Tom.

"Can't tell that," George says. "But if they're ever on your series and you're still there, try looking in that supply cupboard in the spooky corridor. Sometimes they let you join in!"

"I think that's just you," Josh says drily. "And your face."

"My face is excellent," George says.

It is, Tom thinks.

"It is," Josh says, nosing at George's temple in the first overt show of affection.

"Wait, how do you know about the supply cupboard?" Beales asks.

"It's always a supply cupboard," George says, the 'duh' very heavily implied in his voice. "Least likely door to be opened at any and all times, innit?"

"Well, unless someone needs supplies," Tom says.

George giggles and turns his face more into Josh's neck. Beales behind him snorts undelicately.

"Yeah, I reckon if someone needed supplies they'd be in the right place there," he says, bumping him with his hips as if to let him in on a joke. Probably that's what he was going for. It really just makes Tom want to bump back. Repeatedly.

Josh wraps his hands around George's hips. "Let's dance. You can show us all your boy band moves."

"Me?" George blusters. "You're the one who's perfected the moody faces and air-grabbing."

Josh laughs and simply steers him into the thick of the crowd on the dance floor. Tom follows without thinking about it, Barclay still hot on his heels. He can see Josh lean in to murmur something in George's ear that makes him laugh again. It also makes him stay plastered to Josh's front when they start swaying to the music. Or maybe that was the plan all along.

Beales looks over to Tom and lifts both eyebrows. "Dance?"

Something flutters under Tom's ribs. "Yeah, dance."

Tom couldn't have been sure that's how Beales meant it, but he puts his own hands on Tom's hips and pulls him in front of him in an imitation of George and Josh with far more confidence than Tom would've had. He's not the only one who remembers... last year, then.

Parisa and Betsy are soundly ignoring everything around them, but where Tom would have expected George and Josh to do the same, they... don't.

Quite on the contrary, actually. They're both looking at them, at where Beales' hands are on Tom and where he's a bit taller then him, looking over his shoulder, probably. If Tom didn't know better - he doesn't, really, does he? - he'd say they're checking them out.

Josh's hand moves from George's hip to his belly, pulling him flush against Josh's chest. He quirks an eyebrow at them like it's a challenge.

"I think we're in a weird boy band battle," Beales whispers to Tom, and Tom laughs even as Barclay pulls him closer, too, pressed together in the heat of the club.

There's already sweat gathering at the hairline at the back of his neck and if they stay pressed together like this, he's sure his shirt will stick to his back when they eventually separate. He's looking forward to it.

"Well, we're younger and fresher," Tom says turning his head a bit towards Beales'. To better be understood, of course.

"But not lacking experience." Beales' face is very, very close.

Tom swallows in lieu of biting on his lip. This is starting to sound more and more promising.

"Yep," he says, rolling his body back. "We could take them."

Barclay bites his lip and spreads his fingers across Tom's hips, pulling him closer. "Maybe if we're lucky, they'll even take us."

Tom makes a bit of a noise at that. He half hopes it gets drowned out by the thumping bass rattling through him from his toes to the tips of his hair, and half hopes Barclay heard. He really likes the sound of that.

"Sounds like fun," he says and wonders if Barclay would mind if he closed that last bit of distance between their faces. His hands on him seem to indicate that not, but they are still in public, even if the only ones watching seem to be Josh and George.

Tom glances towards them, just to see if _they_ look like they mind.

George holds out his hands and makes grabby lobster-claws at Tom. Somehow, it still works. "C'mere."

He hesitates, but Beales doesn't and just pushes them both forward into George's hands. George grins at them like they did well and puts his hands on Tom immediately, one of them on his waist, just above Barclay's hand and the other one high on his chest, the tips of his fingers grazing his clavicle where it pokes out from his t-shirt. Josh's head rests comfortably on George's shoulder and those must be his fingers Tom can feel on his trousers and hooking into his pockets to pull him in even more.

"Oh," he says, starting to laugh and looking quickly to the side to see if Parisa has anything to say about all this. "Hello."

She raises an eyebrow at them and drags her eyes slowly over all the places they're attached to each other now - there's quite a lot of them - but then she just laughs.

"Well, you seem to get along," Betsy says, grin dirty on her face. Tom can't even work out where both her hands are though, so he's pretty sure she's not one to talk.

"I guess we're not coming back to yours tonight, Georgie," Parisa says, breathless. "Text me all about it."

George giggles but also waggles his eyebrows at her.

"Maybe I'll even sneak a picture or two," he says. Parisa grins back and wraps her arms around Betsy, plastering the two as closely together as she can in public.

"Well, then," Betsy says cheerfully. "We're off to find an empty loo. Ta-ta!"

Tom feels briefly sorry for them for having to content with an empty loo when he's relatively certain it's just been implied Barclay and he'd get to go home with half of Union J, but then George sidles closer and brushes his nose and lips and hair against Tom's face and he forgets all about it.

"Would you like to leave with us?" he asks.

Tom is fairly certain that Josh can feel the answer to that, since his hands have continued to migrate along Tom's front, but all the same, he says, "Er -- well, for me, yes. I can't speak for Beales, but -- "

"Oh, definitely," Beales says. "You three are a far more interesting prospect than the six lads back at the house."

George laughs at that, right into Tom's ear, and it's as charming as it seemed back when he used to do it right in Dermot's face all the time and Tom was back home, watching on telly.

Josh merely smiles at them, but it's just as charming.

"Lovely," he says, like they've just made a date to meet for brunch. "I'll go call us a car."

Next thing he's pulled back from their tangle of boys and weaves through the crowd towards the exit. Tom is a bit disoriented, but George doesn't seem to mind, running one hand up Tom's neck to tease at the skin behind his ear and reaching the other one behind him to grab for Beales.

"Too noisy in here," he says. Tom nods. That makes sense. He's still not sure how they're going to make it out of the club all of them together without looking like they're leaving _together_ but he's apparently underestimating just how innocent George can make his face look. He stears them outside with an arm hooked through one of theirs each and no one bats an eyelash.

It's also entirely possible that no one actually recognizes Tom or Beales and just assumes that George Shelley needs minders of his own. Eight boys is an awful lot of boys to learn the faces of in just a week.

Either way they find Josh waiting by a taxi at the curb and slide in when he holds the door open for them. George waits for them to get in first and lets his own fingers dance over the hand Josh has put indecently high on the inside of George's thigh. George's legs are spread a bit more than there's really space with four boys crammed into the back of the car and Tom can't do anything but slot one of his own in between them so their knees don't knock together.

George dazzles a smile over at Tom. "I liked you both a lot last year. I was sad you didn't get put through, but Louis is rubbish at everything, all the time."

Tom feels his eyes widen at that and Josh pinches George's leg. George makes a noise that's not entirely opposed, if the way his eyelids flutter is any indication.

"Don't scare them, babe," he says. "Louis's bad but he's a pushover if you know where to push. And there's eight of you. You'll work it out. We did."

"Thanks," Beales says from Tom's other side. "And thanks, George. Sometimes I wish I hadn't, you know. Yodeled."

"Nicole liked it," Tom reminds him. "And I liked it. Just don't... like, do it now. Please."

"Or on stage. Ever. It's... not very boyband," George says, kind smile on his face like he's worried about hurting their feelings.

"But that's boybandy?" Beales asks, motioning to Josh's hand.

"Very," Josh says. "Lots of that, if you can."

"Just not, maybe, with the young ones. They're really young, aren't they?" George adds.

"Let's not talk about them either," Tom hedges. "We're enjoying a night away where we don't have to hide the alcohol."

George giggles and Josh grins and Tom thinks they make a very pretty picture together. They've probably got practice at that. Looking pretty together.

"Do you do this often?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

"This?" George asks, quizzical kitten look on his face.

"Um, taking people... home, I meant," Tom says.

"Not _so_ often," Josh says. "But not never. George goes with people more often than we bring people back."

"By himself?" Beales asks, hand twitching where it'd come to rest on Tom's own thigh, even if not as blatantly as Josh's on George. Josh shrugs like it's not a big deal.

"He's pretty," Josh says, and there's no small measure of pride in his voice. "I can't blame anyone."

He could blame George, Tom thinks. He'd probably blame George, in Josh's position. But then, if they weren't so... open, then Beales and he wouldn't be here right now, probably, and he can't really mind that.

"He is," he says instead, heart racing. He's still sort of waiting for them to laugh and say it was all a joke and can they please leave now.

"You're also pretty," George says, and Tom thinks that's very diplomatic. Beales is pretty. Josh is pretty. George is... George.

George is also pushing a shoe off his foot with the other one and then dragging his socked foot up the inside of his leg.

"Relax," he says. "We're all here for some fun, aren't we?"

"Yes," Tom says, and even though this is bizarre, and they're in a moving cab, it's a bit like the moment onstage after the music's already begun. There's no point in being nervous, because all there's left to do is sing.

He's had a lot more practice at singing than this, but this come easy anyway so he spreads his legs so his knee presses against George's and gives his foot more room to press at the inside of his thigh. It's a bit surreal and a bit not entirely sexy, but George is biting at his lips and Josh isn't even pretending his hand is on George's thigh anymore and those are all things that Tom is very much on board with.

"Bit of an upgrade from last year, eh?" Beales whispers so quietly that Tom isn't even sure that the words are meant for him, but he finally turns his head and takes Barclay's jaw in his palm and kisses him hard.

He's been waiting far too long to do that again and if this is where all of this is going then to hell with decorum, really. There's nothing dignified about their tangle of limbs anyway.

"Well, isn't that just lovely," Josh says, voice seemingly an entire octave lower than before. George makes a noise between a sigh and a moan and Tom kind of wants to look and see what it was exactly that provoked it, but Beales' hand has come up to hold him in place and his tongue is doing the most wonderful things inside his mouth, so he stays put. He'll have all night to look at George and Josh.

It's entirely too soon that the cab stops moving and George's hands are on Tom's again, leading him out of the taxi and up to the front entrance of a posh building of flats.

He's put his shoe back on again at some point while Tom was distracted apparently and tugs at Tom's hand a little impatiently. Tom stumbles a bit and George giggles again, but doesn't stop pulling at him, unlocking the door quickly and leading him to the elevator.

"Come on, I want my turn with your mouth."

"Oh, alright," Tom laughs. "Are you always this dirty? How did people think you were so cute and fluffy on the show?"

George gives an impish shrug. "Josh would say that's just my face."

"That and that you pretended not to know what grindr is. Or beards. You're a fiend," Josh says, stepping into the elevator and pushing George up against the back wall of it for a short, deep kiss before he pulls back again. It's only then that Tom notices his other hand is pushed into Beales' back pocket.

"I didn't know what Grindr was!" George protests. "I've never needed it."

"Lucky you," Beales says drily.

George smiles benignly at him and tilts his head, going back to coy and seductive in a heartbeat. It'd be fascinating if Tom weren't so preoccupied with how much he likes it.

"Would you like your turn first?" George asks, holding out a hand to Barclay.

Beales steps around Tom and kisses George: neither of them has to tip their head so much to reach each other, not like for Tom or for Josh, respectively.

They look very nice together. More than just nice, really. Hot, if Tom's honest. Hot enough to want to reach out and pull Beales away and kiss him again himself.

Before he can, the elevator stops and George easily steps out of reach, licking his lips a bit for show, crowding back into Josh.

"Shall we?" he asks.

Josh leads the way down the corridor. He knocks on one door, saying, _this one's actually mine_ , and then unlocks the next door down, which must -- technically -- belong to George.

Tom's not sure if that means they're keeping up appearances or if their... relationship is not the kind that has them want to live together. Maybe they just need their own space sometimes. With how securely Josh leads them through the flat without flicking on too many lights, he must spend a lot of time here at least.

By the time they reach the bedroom, Josh has slipped out of his shoes (by the door) and taken off his jacket (thrown over the back of the sofa). He sits down on the bed, works the top two buttons of his shirt loose and holds out a hand to George, pulling him in close.

George makes a happy little noise as he nestles in between Josh's knees to start undoing the rest of Josh's buttons.

With George standing like that and Josh looking up at him, they make quite the striking picture. Josh's body when he pulls the cuffs over his wrists and carelessly drops the shirt to the floor isn't anything to turn your nose up either. George strokes his hands over Josh's shoulders - they're really good shoulders - before leaning down to give him a kiss.

They have matching tattoos, Tom notices, and it makes him strangely glad.

They met at their bootcamp, too.

Beales and he have technically already met twice at bootcamp but he likes to think that this time it'll stick.

Tom hasn't really noticed that they've just been standing there watching until Beales crowds up behind him and ghosts his lips over his neck.

"Think we should join them on the bed?" he asks.

"There's enough bed for everyone," Josh says, pulling back from George and scooting back onto it. George clambers on after him, thighs bracketing Joshs, settling down onto his lap like he's got no intention of moving for a while.

"Yes, please," Tom says and turns around in Barclay's arms to kiss him again. "Wanted you all week."

"Wanted you all year," Beales challenges him, but the kiss comes easily.

He should've called, then, Tom thinks, a little vindictively, but instead of focussing on that, he focusses on the hands that stroke down his back and settle on his bum.

They must have moved while kissing, because the backs of his knees are nudged up against the side of the bed and he can smell George and Josh again, much closer, notes of subtle and expensive cologne and some of the alcohol from the club.

Beales urges him up onto it, but instead of mirroring George and Josh's position, he quickly pulls Tom's top off and the pushes him to lie flat against the duvets. Not that Tom is complaining with Barclay hovering above him, looking ready to eat him alive.

"Fucking naked selfies," Beales mutters, eyes raking over Tom's chest. "You were torturing me."

"Didn't seem so tortured," Tom quips but preens at the knowledge that he's not the only one feeling like this.

"There are children around, Tommy," Barclay says, reproachfully.

"Not now there aren't," Tom says and bares his neck and pushes his chest out a little, hoping it'll be enough invitation to get Beales' mouth back on him.

It works. Tom can hear George and Josh rustling off their clothes, the bed moving with their shifting weight, but it's not worth the attention he could be paying instead to how hot Barclay's mouth is as he drags it down over his neck.

Tom's breath catches a bit when he feels Beales' teeth get into play, but he's moved low enough that any potential bruises are easily covered with shirts and anyway, it doesn't seem to be his intention judging by how he moves down over his sternum and to the side to lick at one of his nipples.

Tom gasps. He remembers then.

"Oh, you really aren't the only person who likes that," Josh says idly, probably to George, since George giggles in response.

"Not my fault you missed out on a few nerve endings, Joshy," Tom hears George say and then there's the wet sound of mouths touching again and since Barclay's mouth is still very much touching him that's really all the attention Tom can spare anything else. His cock is valiantly and fruitlessly trying to push through the denim of his jeans and if he's not very mistaken, that's Barclay's cock he can feel press down on his thigh.

He spares a look over at George and Josh, just to see if they're planning on putting any kind of limitations on what's going to happen.

They aren't. It's obvious.

They're both already starkers and while they're still kissing, Josh has one hand on George's bum, pulling him in and one hand on his cock, teasing more than offering any actual relief if the restless shifting of George's hips is anything to go by.

Barclay's breath is cold where he snorts a little laugh over Tom's chest. "Well, then. We should get a move on if we're gonna catch up."

"Sounds brill," Tom says and immediately reaches down to unbutton and wriggle out of his jeans. Barclay climbs off him to get his clothes off and pulls Tom's socks off for him as well before coming back, a bit more hesitantly this time.

"This okay?" he asks, hovering above him, fully naked.

"Are you kidding?" Tom asks, winding his arms around Beales and pulling him down. He's not spent the whole night winding himself up for nothing.

Part of Tom wants to pull back and look for everything that changed in a year -- show off the parts of him that have, too, his abs and his arms and the rest -- but this isn't the time for that. There'll be time for that, hopefully, even if they have to resort to that supply cupboard that's been mentioned or find some empty club bathrooms. Right now he's far more interested in feelings as much of Beales' skin against his.

"Hey, you have good arms." George Shelley pokes Beales in the shoulder, and Tom doesn't know whether to laugh or groan, so he sort of grunts instead.

"George, don't interrupt the lads. That's rude," Josh says and reaches out to lace his fingers through George, pulling them back.

"You do, though," he adds then. Barclay's shoulders are shaking a bit underneath Tom's hands with his silent laughter. Tom really would appreciate it if they could go back to the program, so he presses his hips up and turns his head to kiss Beales again.

"Thanks," Barclay says, though, grinning at them. "You have a nice cock."

Tom isn't sure who he's saying it to, but looking over at George and Josh it doesn't really matter. They've both got very nice cocks. He'd not object to touching either one of them. All the same --

"Ahem," he says pointedly, poking Beales, but not with his fingers.

"You too, love," Barclay says, grinding his hips down. "What d'you want me to do with it?"

Before Tom can answer, Josh cuts in.

"How about you blow him?" Josh says, licking his lips and gesturing down at Tom's cock. Tom groans his appreciation. That would... that would be nice.

"Oh, me too, Josh," George says, like it's the best idea he's heard all evening and pushes his thumb past Josh's lips. Tom can see Josh's tongue lap at it.

"Alright," Josh sighs. "You've been good enough, I guess."

George giggles and kisses Josh a bit around his thumb. Tom gets the impression George gets blowjobs even when he's not 'been good'.

Tom, although not lacking in the 'getting blowjobs' department, really, does not -- at least not so reliably. Maybe though, with how Barclay's trailing his fingers over Tom's hips like he really wants them to touch a little further down, that could change.

"Are you gonna?" Tom asks.

"Yeah, 'm'gonna, keep calm," Beales says, rolling his eyes. "I forgot how impatient you are."

"I like orgasms," Tom says, a little petulantly maybe.

"Orgasms are great," George agrees, a little breathlessly because Josh has ducked his head and is now licking at one of his nipples. George's hand is fisted in the longer hair at the top of his head, like he's got him exactly where he wants him. Probably does.

George is a picture when he stretches out across the mattress beside Tom, writhing luxuriously as Josh makes his way down his torso. He looks perfectly at home with all of his... _all of his_ on display and someone else covering his skin in sucking kisses. And why shouldn't he, really. Even when Barclay nudges him to lie down next to him and Tom knows he's about to have his own cock sucked, it's hard to look away from George.

George looks over at him across the pillow. His eyes are half-lidded and magnetic and when George nudges his face towards Tom's for a kiss, it's easy to let him.

Tom breaks away when George groans into his mouth and tenses a bit to look down at Josh. He's got his mouth around one of George's balls and his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock. Barclay's staring just as much as he is. It's difficult to mind there's no touching of his own cock going on with something like that to watch.

"Whoa," Tom whispers, and he can feel his own breath back against George's lips.  
  
"Hmm," George hums. "He's really good at it."

He winks at Tom as Barclay makes an indignant noise and wraps his hand around Tom's cock, intent on proving that he's good at it, too. So competitive. Not that Tom's about to complain about that _now_ when it means a tight, wet heat around his cock that has him clutch at the sheets to redirect the urge to rock his hips up.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters. "Forgot just how good you are at this."

"Must be all the yodeling," jokes George, half-groaning as he threads his fingers through Josh's hair, destroying the perfect quiff. Barclay sucks his way off Tom's cock and says, his voice as dripping with pride as his lower lip with saliva, "It is. Good throat control."

George grins at him wickedly.

"Josh had to practice _loads_ for that," he says, while Josh kisses his way up George's dick and seems to ignore him. "He really enjoys practicing though, don't you?"

George yelps and gives Josh's hair a little tug. "Hey, no teeth!"

Josh chuckles a little and George groans involuntarily from the vibrations that pass from Josh's lips to his cock.

"Kinky," Tom says, mouth going a bit dry both from watching how into it Josh and George both are and because Barclay's got his mouth back on Tom's cock.

"Sometimes," George says.

George has spots of pink high on his cheekbones now, and the scent of cologne coming from him is diluted with fresh sweat and the unmistakable smell of sex. Tom likes it. This is what being a popstar was supposed to feel like.

He doesn't know if this is ever going to happen again with all four of them, but Barclay seems to be enjoying himself sucking Tom off and Tom is finding it more and more difficult concentrating on anything else. If they manage to keep this up the two of them that'll be great enough.

George crooks a finger under Tom's chin and brings his mouth back for another kiss. It's more a feeble touching of lips at this point, at least from Tom's side. He can feel his orgasm start to build up in the pit of his belly. He pulls back from George for that, and reaches down to rake his fingers over Beales' broad shoulders again, holding on tight.

"Fuck, fuck, Baz, I'm really-" he huffs, cheeks hot and cock even hotter down Beales' throat.  
He doesn't stop at all -- instead, he does that _thing_.

Tom had never felt it before last summer, and he hasn't felt it since. It really might be something Beales learned from all that godfuckingdamn _yodeling_ , but however he trained his throat to do that, Tom's glad to benefit from it. He tries to get out a word, some sort of warning or maybe even just appreciation but his voice leaves him halfway through a strangled noise and then he's coming.

"Shit," George breathes and Tom assumes it's at something Josh does, but when he's blinked himself back into focus and turns to look at them, Josh has pulled off George's cock and they're both openly staring. Probably, Tom should feel self-conscious. That would mean being able to feel much of anything besides Barclay's mouth, though, so he doesn't.

"Enjoy the show?" Barclay says, voice a bit rougher and face one hundred percent smug.

"I think you're through to the next round, if you like," George says, giving Beales a firm nod.

As Barclay grins a dirty smile and flips Tom over onto his belly on George Shelley’s big bed, Tom thinks that getting through to this next round is all he’s really wanted for the last year.


End file.
